Chapter 5
Lying back against the raised pillows on the bed, Rick was watching a fencing match on the television set, wearing a pair of cut-off blue jeans. He looked toward the window which ran from the floor almost to" the ceiling, Lauri sitting before it as she hemmed the cadmium drapes, her face angled toward the glass. He was fascinated at how fast she could tan, considering the natural alabaster of her flesh. The long legs that were curled upon the apricot carpet were the color of golden sand and her hair was lighter. He smiled at the way her white, cotton-terry shorts softly molded to her hips, the seam's length of one leg pulled up from the base of a lush ass cheek and at how her supple back showed through the gauzing effect of her T-shirt which was crocheted from lacy string. He inhaled slowly and deeply, feeling his cock shift inside his cut-offs and debated interrupting her work, but decided to wait until she had finished. Pressing his palms down against the deep blue bedspread, he forced himself to concentrate on the fencers' thrusts and parries.
Lauri brushed her hair back over her shoulder, the late afternoon sunlight haloing it with gold and noticed someone walking in the general direction of the rear of their house. It was the first time she had seen anyone near their house with its twenty acres, though she had seen gardeners. Shrugging to herself, she went back to putting the hem in the drapes. The blue-rimmed gray of her eyes stood out brightly from her darkening flesh, her eyebrows and lashes lightened by the sun. She shifted and grinned upon seeing the tip of one of her peaked nipples peeking through the crochet of her T-shirt, rosy-pink emerging from mint and she glanced back toward Rick, tempted to show him, but she saw that he was watching the TV. A few moments later, she looked back out the second-story window, wondering if the person had continued toward her.
Lauri grimaced, the needle jabbing into the tip of her forefinger. She recognized the person as Felice. A bead of blood clung to her finger and she slowly raised it to pucker her roseate lips around the spot, sucking the drop away, her eyes intent upon the girl.
It was apparent that Felice was unaware of her and was simply out for a walk, but Lauri felt herself responding irrationally again, feeling threatened, her breathing quickening. She tugged her T-shirt free of her nipple, suddenly self-conscious. Felice continued toward the stone fence separating them which was eyes' level with the window.
"Rick?" Lauri said, her voice tight, her eyes remaining on Felice. "C-come here?" she asked and he stood with an expression of curiosity.
She turned her side to the window as he approached and raised up onto her knees as he stopped, her hands touching his hips to draw him around in front of her. He looked down at her, seeing her breasts rising and falling through the gauzing of the shirt, her lips parted to a shallow breathing and she unsnapped his cut-offs, her eyes on her hands. She drew the zipper down and he was growing hard before the jeans fell around his ankles. He touched his hands to the bright softness of her hair as she caressed his hips and thighs, her lips brushing his flesh through his pubic hair, her breath warm as she lowered her face to his stiffening shaft. She let her long hair spill over it and rubbed her cheek along its now fully engorged length, her fingertips gliding down between his thighs and his sac, turning inward to flex rhythmically under his balls. Her mouth opened against his trunk, sliding up and down it, her tongue gliding over the tight sheath of flesh, following the relief patterns of his veins. His breathing had become deep, his eyes lidding to the electric flickerings moving through his body, his prick throbbing.
From the corner of her eye, Lauri saw Felice come to a stop as she saw her and Rick framed in the floor length window. Lauri drew her mouth up to his bulbous head, baring the whole of it to the girl's eyes as she extended her tongue to lick the tiny lips of his knob, her fingers cupping his sac out before his thighs. Rick murmured with pleasure, his feet braced against the carpet, his hips arching forward as Lauri's lips followed her tongue to the tip of his cock, kissing it lovingly, his flesh warming, his thoughts spinning.
Felice stood watching Lauri draw Rick's head into her mouth, his swollen balls tremoring upon her fingers, his big rod thrusting out from his strong body. Her only movement was to turn a filigreed gold ring around her finger with her thumb.
Lauri's soft lips nuzzled down along his cock, her tongue lapping at his dorsal vein as she took more and more of his swollen tool into her mouth, her fingers now flowing over his sac, shifting the fine hairs. He swayed slightly, dampening his lips, her hungering mouth filling his prod with a pounding heat, her fingers tremoring his come-loaded balls. His head lolled to the side and through slitted and glazed eyes he saw Felice. He did not recognize her, her eyes staring up at him from behind the big, lavender-tinted lenses of her rimless sunglasses, the sun glowing from her golden hair. His mind half-conscious due to his arousal, to the mounting raptures Lauri was stoking his loins with, he noticed that the girl wore a tunic-blouse with gold and ivory brocading, a string belt holding it against sable slacks of thin-ribbed corduroy, the pile haloed with light over the contours of her shapely legs, dark brown mocassins below the cuffs. He bit at his lower lip, squinting his eyes for a moment, Lauri angling her mouth and throat to let the top of his shaft slide down into her throat, her breath rushing around the bulb of his head, her tongue swirling around his cock. His breathing was ragged. He opened his eyes, on the verge of coming, seeing Felice's eyes showing puzzlement at the display before her and appreciation of his tremoring staff as Lauri's mouth slid up and down him. Just as he came, he recognized Felice and he groaned from deep in his chest, his spend exploding, Felice smiling warmly at his expression and pleasure. His eyes closed, his come surging through his rod, blasting into Lauri's gulping mouth and throat, the spasms shaking him with ecstasy.
Gradually, the flow of his juices slackened and Lauri helped him lower down to his knees and to his side. She smiled as he lay recovering from the intensity of his release and she glanced outside, surprised to see that Felice had continued on with her walk, her back toward Lauri as she moved away. His eyes flickered open and he looked up at his wife, remembering Felice and Lauri's remark about betting that the girl would stop being a lesbian if she knew how good he was and he felt angry, as if Lauri had been using him to show Felice that she was heterosexual. Yet, the anger vanished suddenly, overpowered by his concern for Lauri's emotional stability, by the continuance of her anxiety. He drew her to him, kissing her deeply and she clutched his body to hers.
Lauri's exhibitionism had disturbed her too, along with her other reactions to Felice and she felt irritation with herself for using their lovemaking. Quiet the rest of the afternoon and evening, she fell into a troubled sleep and soon began to dream: she was standing on the sidewalk of a deserted street -lined with windowless, concrete buildings. It was midnight. Her clothes were Victorian, a long-sleeved organdy blouse with lace inset, a full length skirt of black satin crepe, the smooth satin turned inward toward her legs which were garbed in black opaque stockings gartered at mid-thigh, the fabric smooth against her upper thighs and loins.
She turns her head, a rumbling echoing up from a side street. Her high cuffs are laced trimmed, fastened with three buttons each. The noise becomes a roaring. She turns toward the intersection, light flooding out with the booming which becomes an explosive cacophony. Her collar circles her throat, trimmed with lace. The light brightens, illuminating the anonymous building facing the side street, sending grotesque shadows across it. Her sleeves are full. The light breaks into the street, dividing, glaring beams turning toward her, searching her out, aiming at her. A thin gold chain is concealed by her high collar, a ruby between it and her throat. The roaring divides with the blinding lights. She casts a long shadow behind. The lights flash past her, attached to blurs, speeding motorcycles and riders. She is afraid. The big bikes brake, turning, tires screeching against paving, lights jabbing back at her, forming a semi-circle before her. Her hands press back against the building. Leather-gloved hands turn, gunning the engines, blasting metallic, bestial sounds between the buildings that multiply in the flat-planed canyon. She presses her hands to her ears, wincing. Suddenly, the headlights shut off, dimming down to flickering filaments, the engines idling. The cyclists face her, straddling their big machines, silent. She realizes they are women. A jet-haired woman sneers at her, huge spheres stretching a black latex bodysuit that molds to her body, a metal-studded slave collar around her neck. A blonde eyes her lasciviously, her tongue sliding over her lips, a black leather bikini tightly circling the delicate mounds of her tits, long pink nipples stabbing out through metal-ringed openings, the bottoms cut out to reveal chestnut ringlets, her plump cunny pressed open against the leather seat, wide-topped leather boots rising to the middle of her thighs, six-inch stiletto heels sparking against the pavement. A violet-eyed brunette, her hair brushed back to fan out around her head, leans from her bike to whisper to the biker next to her, a black woman with mysterious, catlike eyes. The two glance toward her, laughing mockingly. A pale blonde smiles warmly, wearing a black leather merry-widow that circles her from the tops of her breasts to her waist, wide-linked chains connected to a spiked, matching collar supporting it, similar chains connecting the front opening, two inches of flesh bared between, the chains from the bottom points joining in the woolly mane of her dusky fur, disappearing in the cleave of her cunny as they continue under her to connect to the back of the garment. The woman's hair is piled atop her head, spilling in loose ringlets over her forehead, her fingernails painted black, spike-heeled boots clinging up to just under her cunny. The next rider is naked except for high, black leather gloves, silver blonde ringlets framing the sculpted features of her face, gold eyes gleaming, full sensual mouth smirking, pink nipples pointing out from big, wide-set tits, a full ass shifting against the bike seat, the plump mound of her cunny hairless.
Lauri's eyes move toward the seventh rider, but the headlight suddenly comes back on, the woman lost to Lauri's squinting eyes. The rider on the other side of the center biker wears a huge, orange Afro wig, her girlish face painted with arabesque patterns emanating from just above the center of her eyes, which are circled with dark mascara flecked with cobalt glitter, long lashes drawn down from the steely gray eyes, her lips lavender, a pancho of bright feathers covering her shoulders, the centers of conical tits showing in the deep neckline, the point of the front triangle pointing down from the undersloping of her torso to the top of her muff which is dyed the same bright orange as her wig. On the eighth bike a big, shapely woman in her early thirties sits staring with regal coldness at Lauri, shoulder length hair spilling like nightfall around her face, the firm melons of her breasts thrusting out from the top of her violet corset and between the straps. Laced up the front with pink ribbon, the garment binds her waist tightly, ending just above her fanny and her cunt, garter straps extending down her big legs where they clip to the tops of her stockings, eight-inch stacked heels on her feet. Facing the woman, her legs wrapped around her waist, sits a girl with an Alice-in-Wonderland quality to her un-made-up face, straight blonde hair falling over a lilac boa to drop to her waist, a large lilac worn in her hair over one temple. She presses the gold haze of her downy mound against the dark floss of the woman's, her pink lips suckling one of the woman's russet nipples. Contrasting with her innocent appearance, a lavender garter belt circles her forward arching torso, the straps connected to matching stockings which accent her long, slender legs, lame heels with sandal straps on her feet. The woman strokes the girl's hair as her big tit quivers from the girl's energetic sucking, the girl's sweet, arching fanny squirming back upon the gas tank. On the ninth bike a young woman with long, auburn hair sits staring at Lauri, with lustful violence in her smiling face, her sensuous mouth smiling cruelly, frightening Lauri. The woman wears a black vest, open to expose the rich spheres of her tanned breasts, dark pink, thick nipples standing out erect, black leather driving gloves and black leather pants with zippers running down the sides of the legs to her ankles, spike-heeled boots a part of her pants, the toes pointed. A teenager sits on the tenth bike, staring off with a bored expression, a mane of rippling, light auburn hair spreading downward to her waist, slender braids hanging down before her ears and from under the earpieces of her large lensed sunglasses. Her eyes hidden, her face still has an ethereal quality. But for a long, tye-dyed silk scarf wound around her throat, she is naked to the waist, her pert breasts high and firm, tapering to the long juts of her pink nipples which point out to the sides from paler pink aureoles, her stomach a defined curve narrowing within her slender torso to the rise of her abdomen which is concealed by low-cut jeans belted with chrome discs, the legs cut to the tops of her shapely legs, the calves of which are covered by her tan suede boots. Lauri blinks at the sight of the rider of the eleventh bike. The woman's red hair, parted in the middle, falls straight to the middle of her inward sloping back, her flesh is a ginger tan, her torso is slender, her muff is like a flame down the center of her plump cunny, her legs are long and shapely, her throat is slender, her teeth show between her lips. The woman looks enough like Lauri to be her sister, only the greenness of her eyes, the spherical globes of her breasts, and. the definition of her cheekbones markedly different. The woman also wears black opaque stockings gartered at mid-thigh with white-laced elastic like those Lauri wears beneath her skirt and lace-up ankle boots. The woman looks at Lauri, mirroring her expression of apprehensive fear.
Lauri turns her eyes to the woman on the twelfth motorcycle, to the thirteenth woman who is at the center of the semi-circle, obviously their leader. The headlight goes out, revealing the woman to her. A black leather flight cap molding to her head, she wears wide-lensed goggles, light reflecting from them, her slightly wide mouth bemused, the upper lip un-cleft. A wide, silver collar jeweled in deco filigree circles the graceful column of her neck, a wide silver zipper appearing from under it to run along the center of her body to stop under the crotch of her legless, black leather body suit, identical zippers along the outsides of the sleeves disappearing under the silver cuffs that match the collar, black leather gloves appearing from beneath them. A deco necklace hangs down over the press of rounded breasts in silver links with stones of jade and emerald held between them, turquoise pieces mounted in the section above, the links spanning her torso to connect, forming a halter top that exposes black leather instead of flesh. A belt of linked, silver rings hangs loosely from around her slender waist, every other link set with turquoise, loops of thin, silver chains dropping over her hips, heavier loops draping over her crotch, set with emeralds, a ruby set in front of where her clit probably is. She wears tight, mid-thigh black leather boots with spike heels and side zippers like those of her body suit, wide rings at the tops for tabs, silver riding spurs jutting back from the heels, moonlight glinting from them. Silver rings, some with stone settings, glint from her gloved fingers, one connected to the cuff above by a fine, silver mesh that covers the back of her hand. The tops of her thighs quiver deliciously with the vibrations of the big Harley XL-1000 she grips between them. Golden brown eyes stare through lavender lens at Lauri. The woman raises one hand and slips her cap away, baring golden blonde hair that is cut short, pressed down by the cap so that it now grips her head tightly. A chill goes through Lauri. It is Felice.
Lauri presses back against the building, her eyes wide, her mouth dry. "Ladies," Felice says, her purring voice just audible over the idling rumble of the engines and three women dismount to either side of her, cutting their motors off and putting their bike stands down. Lauri's hands spread back against the concrete. The women approach her, moonlight gleaming from black leather. They come to the curb and she runs only to have one of the bikes roar forward, jumping onto the sidewalk, braking before her. The six step onto the sidewalk. Big breasts rise and fall, pressing black latex outward. Catlike eyes gleam from a dusky-cocoa face. Chains stretch from leather to a woolly muff, disappearing within the slit beneath. Lavender lips smile chillingly. Large blue eyes stare out from a face of innocence. A hand stretches in a driving glove, the fingers stiffly spread like claws. A tye-dyed scarf drifts in the air. Suddenly the women move toward her, hands grabbing out for her. Lauri whirls to flee. A leather bound hand grabs the back of her blouse. Her calf strikes an outstretched foot. She pitches forward, her blouse splitting open down the center of her back from the base of the high collar to the waistband of her skirt. The sound rends the air. She sprawls forward on the sidewalk.
No one grabs her and she slowly turns her head to look back over her shoulder, raising up on her forearms. Felice unfastens the bull whip hanging from one hip and it uncurls, its nine-foot length snaking out on the pavement toward Lauri. She pushes herself up from the sidewalk, the six moving toward her. Felice laughs contemptuously. Lauri runs from them. Felice's hand rises, light gleaming from cuff and rings. The whip flashes through the air and snaps sharply against Lauri's skirt, opening it cleanly from under the waistband down to the base of her ass' cleavage. Lauri spins around, anger suddenly rising. One leg straight down from the bike, Felice curls the other atop it, her arm hanging loosely from her side. The tendon at the inside of her thigh lifts between black leather. The whip cracks three times and the buttons at the side of Lauri's skirt fly away, the satin crepe slowly sliding down around her ankles.
Lauri staggers free of the ring of cloth, naked between the tops of her black cotton stockings and the bottom of her blouse, her pubic plume bright. Her ankle high shoes have three-inch platform soles and six-inch high stacked heels that make it difficult for her to move away. "Hold her," Felice directs and the six women come at her again. She slaps out and blonde coils spill. Leather encased fingers dig into her arms. She drives her knee up into a jeaned crotch. The girl with the auburn mane doubles over. Fingers claw into the front of her blouse, ripping it open down the front, only the collar holding it together now. Her fingernails rake a diminutive breast with a long, tongue pink nipple and the Alice-like girl cries out. A leather palm slams into the side of her face, reeling her. She kicks out blindly, her platform driving into a leather-encased leg. The mean-eyed girl with the vest topples with a shriek. Dusky brown fingers indent her tit, clutching. She is panting, her hair whipping about. Hands hold her arms out from her body, twisting them to force her forward onto her toes, her knees jutting out, other hands grabbing her ankles. She reaches out, bright feathers flying out, but she cannot get free; she only tears the serape of the woman in the orange Afro. She is helpless, a prisoner.
Felice removes her goggles, the strap pulling through her hair to fluff it out. She smiles as the others move Lauri into the pool of light beneath a street light. She steps off her chopper, the engine off. "Remove my jewels," she directs, legs akimbo, arms out from her sides, the bull whip still in her hand, her eyes on Lauri's damp eyes. Her shoulders aching from the position she is held in, Lauri watches the violet-eyed brunette and the big woman whose breast the girl had sucked, move forward, the brunette wearing a starched khaki shirt that snaps under the crotch, a black tie and pearl-gray suede boots. They stand to either side of Felice and remove her jewelry with synchronized movements as if performing a ritual. The necklace, belt, cuffs and collar off, Felice moves toward Lauri with slow, feline strides. The zipper tabs at her throat and wrist are silver rings. Lauri can feel the cool night air against her bared back. Her head lifts as Felice nears her, her neck straining to look up at the petite girl who now seems amazonian.
"Very pretty," Felice whispers slowly, reaching out to drift her gloved hand over the side of Lauri's face, pushing her hair back. Lauri pulls her face to the side, wincing. Felice makes a tsking sound and suddenly slaps Lauri across the face, the leather stinging her cheek, her hair whipping out. "Ah, yes," Felice smiles, mindless of the tears shimmering at the rims of Lauri's eyes, staring down at her boot which is below Lauri, Lauri's opened slit reflected in the shiny leather. Abruptly, Felice reaches out, tearing Lauri's blouse loose of the collar on either side, the blouse now hanging down to the sides of her tear-drop breasts. The collar hides the ruby at Lauri's throat. Felice raises the whip, her fingers curled around the thick handle and she lets the loose length drift over Lauri's cheek, over her lush, vulnerable tits, over her rosy nipples' upturned peaks, over her stretched belly and through the soft hair of her muff. Lauri tensing, squirming with small sobbings in an attempt to escape contact with the braided leather. "Say, I know what you like," Felice chuckles and she reaches down. Lauri gasps as the base of the handle turns within her slit, moving upward. She pulls and twists, vainly struggling, the thick length moving within her underbelly and she cries out, coming, her body quivering. As her mind swims, the remnants of her blouse are removed, the ruby revealed, the platforms, stockings and garters taken off, her arms moved back to join her wrists, the end of the whip being tied around them. Her legs straightened, Lauri looks down through glazed eyes, confused to see what appears to be a cock stretching out from her pubic foliage. She blinks. It is the handle of the whip being thrust through, her hands bound behind her. "This is so you can keep enjoying," Felice smiles mockingly, stepping around to draw the length of the whip through, Lauri's shoulders going back as her hands are pulled down between her widening ass cheeks. Mannequins look out from a display window, coming to life. Faceless, they seem somehow familiar to Lauri and she realizes that they are dressed like the people at Rick's business luncheon. Their derisive laughter washes over her, joined by that of Felice's motorcycle gang. "You like sucking it, don't you?" Felice grins, one hand holding the whip taut before Lauri's stomach, the other pressing the base of the handle to her lips, her own juices gleaming on it. Unable to escape the pressure, she closes her eyes, imagining it is a penis that slides into her mouth, pretending it is Rick's, licking at the underside. It leaves her mouth and she opens her eyes as it rubs along her slit, pressing the other end of the whip up into her damp nook. "Um, very sweet," Felice nods, sliding her long tongue along the handle now coated with Lauri's saliva and spendings, "but-" and she suddenly tosses the handle up into the air and Lauri looks up to see the bull whip loop over the horizontal bar of the street light and it drops back down behind her, one of the six catching it, pulling it taut. Her hands are pulled lower, the leather sliding tightly between her pubes and she is hoisted up onto the balls of her feet to keep her balance, realizing that if she is pulled forward off them, she will be flipped over.
"Remove my leathers," Felice directs and the girl in the cut-out bikini and the silver-blonde with the hairless cunny step forward to her sides, unzip the sleeves and now join their fingers around the ring at Felice's throat, drawing it slowly downward, opening the wide, silver zipper to the base of her slit. They peel the leather from her, going to one knee on either side to slip it from her booted feet. Felice is now clothed only in her mid-thigh boots which are like second skins around her long legs, their shapeliness accented by the spike heels and a maillot of the thinnest cotton, the straps thin, the neckline scooped to between her breasts, a three-button extension below. The hips are cut to the tops of her lush hips, the V of the crotch snapping across the base of her stomach. The rosy pearls of her nipples with their damask aureoles show through the stretched fabric, while the high, filled-in Y of her muff is molded to it. The burnished gold is palely blurred as are her nipples and flesh. The maillot contains rather than conceals.
The two women pivot to grasp Lauri's ankles and stand, spreading her legs out parallel to the sidewalk, her torso curving down, her hair drifting over the concrete as they turn her around to look up at Felice, the lamplight coming from over one of the girl's shoulders, her intense face shadowed, lowered to stare into Lauri's upside down face, her gold hair haloed. Her shoulders back, hands on hips, her weight is on one leg, the other turned to the side, the inside of her supple thigh's contours emphasized. The textured mound of her gauzed muff is before Lauri's flushed face. "Eat me," Felice directs. "Never," is Lauri's answer. "Prefer one style, ay?" Felice nods, unperturbed and there is a metallic sound from the edge of the walk. The big nozzle of a fire hydrant is opened, Felice's spread legs being turned toward it and the water jets out, splashing over her loins, washing over her open cunt as she is lowered to her feet. She cries out, the geyserlike stream frothing in her tremoring nook, swirling around her pulsing clit. Her toes move over the sidewalk as the pressure of the water spins her, the water beating against her hips and the ripe cushions of her ass cheeks as well as her hive. She spins faster, the whip twisting between the light post's horizontal bar and her cunny, the slick leather rubbing within her cleave. She screams, her depths contracting and expanding and she comes, her senses blurred, the edge between pain and pleasure hazy. The water drops from her, moving back toward the hydrant as it is turned off and there is silence again. The leather squeaks and the taut whip begins to unwind, turning Lauri. She spins faster and faster. The faces of the women are blurs, her hair whipping out around her. Vertigo consumes her equilibrium, her body tilting back, her cunt throbbing around the quivering leather. The spinning slows and turns her back in the opposite direction, back and forth until she sways drunkenly, everything tilting and spinning. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to regain her balance. She opens her eyes to see a manhole cover silently explode from the street, falling with a crash to wobble down against the pavement, a head rising from the manhole. It is Rick, ascending as if upon an elevator platform. He is naked. His hands are cuffed before him, a thick pole between the insides of his elbows and his back. The big-breasted woman in the black latex bodysuit takes his cock in her hand, leading him forward by her grip upon its thick length. "The way you enjoy giving him head on display," Felice muses, "there must be something to it." The raven-haired woman turns, going to one knee and opens her hand to slide his cock into her mouth. Hearing the wet sounds of sucking, Lauri feels sorrow at somehow having caused Rick to be bound and used. But he groans, pleasure on his face and she feels jealous anger as he shakes with a climax. The woman steps back, Lauri seeing his thick come jetting into her open mouth. The woman with the painted face kneels before him, his cock still erect, the veins standing out from its engorged bulk and she licks his gizzum from the lips of his bulbous head before taking him fully into her mouth and throat. He sways, crying out again. The blonde girl nibbles as she sucks and he comes again, retaining his erection. The girl with the electric mane of light auburn hair fondles his balls as she sucks him off. The black woman bobs her finger in his anus as she gives him head. The woman with the smooth pubes tongue kisses around his staff with the violet-eyed woman in the starched military shirt, his juices streaming out through the air to splash over Lauri's belly, running down into her muff. The woman in the leather bikini eats him, her fingernails scraping over his stomach. The corseted woman with the boa sucks his balls into her mouth, her fingers stroking his trunk, his spunk splattering over' his wife's breasts, sliding down to drip from the points of the lush teardrops. The woman with the driving gloves squats to stroke his prick between her tanned breasts, her open mouth above his head to catch his gushing spunk. He had come with each of the ten women but was still erect, his eyes glazed" a drugged smile on his face. The last woman turns to Lauri, extending her tongue to lick his come over Lauri's lips. Flinching back, Lauri sees the eleventh woman, the woman who looks much like her, stretched back atop one of the bikes, her calves tied to the raised handlebars, her arms stretched down alongside the back wheel, tied with a leather strap held beneath the tire. Rick climbs up atop the woman, calling her "Lauri" as he slides his cock into her exposed cunny. Lauri can see his prick sink into the gleaming pink cleave via the bike's rear view mirrors. Lauri whimpers, her shoulders shaking. The redhead writhes, crying out with ecstasy as she comes, Rick's tool spasming his juices into her recesses. Lauri's head bows, her chin touching her chest, a tear trailing down her cheek. Rick stands before Lauri, his hard cock below her eyes, the other woman's juices gleaming upon it. Felice's hand reaches into view and she slowly draws her fingertip along the top of his shaft. Gizzum erupts from his head, fountaining up, globuals arching through the air, pearl droplets smashing into her flesh. His prick begins to soften, Felice's touch accomplishing what the other eleven failed to do. Only the woman in the black leather merry-widow with the chains looped up under her loins has not joined him. Smiling, she presses a gloved palm to the small of Lauri's back and leans forward to lick Rick's spend from Lauri's lips and body, the shaken Lauri making no protest, submitting to the flow of the velvet soft tongue, to the arousal of her body. "Now, it's your turn," Lauri hears Felice say, "but let's finish cleaning you up," and Lauri staggers as the whip goes slack, dropping down from the street light's post-, remaining in her slit for a moment before dropping between her legs, the tension removed from her arms and shoulders. She is stretched out alongside the curb. A huge street cleaning machine rumbles toward her, spraying water over her in jetting streams, its big brushes turning over her. Back on her feet, she spreads her legs without being told. "No, it's your turn to eat," Felice chuckles and the women line up single file before her as she is pushed down to her knees, her wrists still bound behind her. The woman who tongue-bathed her presses her cunt to Lauri's face, her nook opening and Lauri sees the silver chains from the points of the merry-widow join to a single ring that circles her clit, pushing it forward, a single chain continuing down and under, blocking her nook. The woman rubs her cleave over Lauri's closed lips, using the hardness of the teeth behind them to rub her clit against, her juices coating Lauri's cheeks, nose and chin. The woman shudders with a moan and stumbles aside for the black woman to replace her. The cushiony fur opens and the cerise furrow envelops Lauri's mouth, gently turning, rubbing the damp sleekness against her lips, her hands cupping Lauri's head, stroking her hair. Feeling physically exhausted, Lauri lets her eyes close, her jaws relaxing on their own and her lips part, the oscillation of the woman's cunny flexing them. Her nostrils are filled with the mixture of the two women's scents and she tastes their flavors with absent curiosity, Rick's come still clinging to her body in an aromatic patina. Her tongue moves and the woman cries out ecstatically, due as much to Lauri's act as to the contact. The warm body and caressing hands depart and Lauri's eyelids part to see a plump mound hazed with golden down. It is the Alice-like girl, her body arching forward, her long and slender legs parting. Her waist-length blonde hair spills over the light swells of her budding breasts, curtaining her curved belly with softness. Lauri tastes the carnation pink cove as the full portals open, the wisps of gold unweaving. She presses her tongue deep, the girl's dewy fluids sweet to her palate, her aroma subtly musky. Lauri burrows her face into the invitation of the girl's sex, her bound hands seeking to rise from the small of her back, her ass shifting above the heels of her feet. The girl whimpers with pleasure, Lauri's soft lips circling the bud of her clit. The girl comes and Lauri's eyes open wide. Aghast, she sees the girl move aside. I Her mind spins with confusion, belief and action, fear I and desire clashing, banishing reason with fear. The woman with the cut-out leather bikini steps forward, the dusky ringlets of her muff framed by the bottoms. "No!" Lauri screams out, unable to bear the turmoil within her mind and body and she pushes up to her feet, blindly running down the sidewalk, the whip and handle trailing back from where the leather holds her wrists together. There is a door ahead of her, a swinging door. She pushes against it desperately and it opens inward, admitting her. She looks around, stunned to find herself in the airport terminal, the speakers calling out flight information. Conversations die away, the movement of baggage comes to a standstill, all of the faces in the crowded lobby turning toward her. The faces have only eyes, eyes that move over her naked body, examining the syrupy wetness of her face, the film of come upon her naked body, the whip trailing behind her. Nostrils flex, confirming suspicions that she has been eating the cunts of other women, has been bathed with male come. She squirms, unable to cover her nakedness, only able to hold her legs together, blushing with shame. "Lauri is in the main lobby," a voice crackles through the speakers, "naked and available for fucking and sucking, male or female," the voice announces, echoing through the terminal, sounds of work and conversation dying away, more people moving toward the lobby, cocks and cunts being bared for her to attend to. Suddenly, the roar of motorcycles blasts through the building, eyes-turning toward the slanted corridor leading to the entrance gates and the crowd moves away from the entrance. Bikes zoom forth, jumping from the slant to land in the center of the lobby, turning as they brake. Eleven cycles circle Lauri, the twelve riders looking back toward the corridor. Felice's jet-black chopper flashes through the entrance, arching down straight for Lauri who stands transfixed. The front of the bike lifts and Felice sets it down, the rear tire screaming against the floor. She sets the cycle on its stand, cutting the engine off. The foremost part of the bike is half an inch from Lauri's thighs.
Felice is naked but for her boots and gloves, the maillot discarded. Her shoulders back, her arms are straightened, her leather-garbed hands gripping the handlebars, her torso curved back to where the silky, widening ovals of her ass cheeks press against the grained leather of the seat, her statuesque thighs spread wide around the machine, her calves back on the foot braces. Her head is held high and back as she moves her eyes contemptuously over the crowd. Silence, but for the idling of the other cycles. She glances toward the corseted woman and she moves her bike to the center, the woman who resembles Lauri riding with her instead of the blonde girl, seated before her. She halts the bike, putting the stand down. The redhead grips the front of the gas tank, her forearms upon it and she lifts her body on straightening legs until her torso is horizontal. The big woman straightens, her naked loins lifting to reveal the jut of an immense dildo. The eyes of the crowd widen as she lubricates it in the redhead's slit. She presses her hips forward and the phallus disappears in the woman's pink anus, collared by snowy down like Lauri's is. The redhead is oblivious to the observers and twists her lush fanny back upon the big dildo and comes with a strangled groan of bliss. The prod still in the redhead, she and the brunette sit back down. There is an undercurrent of arousal. The big woman stretches back upon the bike, her arms going back to grip the rear light, her widened thighs angled down, her calves back, the dildo visible between her dark nest and the other woman's lush ass. The redhead takes hold of the handlebars, guns the engine and the cycle jumps forward off its stand, her ass bouncing upon the phallus and they return to their original position. The crowd is still, silent, exposed cocks rock hard, exposed cunts damp. With a short laugh, Felice extends one hand toward Lauri. Her knees bending, Lauri reaches down and lifts the handle of the whip and blinks as she straightens, realizing what she is doing, but she still turns to place the whip in Felice's hand, the other end still binding her. Felice's hand moves side to side as if saying no and Lauri turns back toward her, letting the handle down while she holds onto the whip. She swings the heavy end of the bull whip and the handle rises up from between her thighs in front of her, Felice's hand catching it without her looking toward Lauri. Felice puts up the stand and her cycle turns to one of the corridors leading from the side of the lobby. The other bikes move to follow, the faceless crowd parting. As Felice picks up speed, the length of the whip straightens out between her hand and Lauri, pulling up against the base of her fanny and her slit, Lauri moving from a fast walk to a trot and then to a slow run in order not to be pulled forward off her feet. Her cunny beginning to pulse at the chafe of the leather, her confusion begins to return. "Lauri is moving through the east corridor," the voice over the speaker announces, "wanting cock. Lauri wants cocks, prongs, pricks, prods, rods, dongs, wangs, dicks, tools, members, ramrods, broadswords, pokers, pistons and bones," the voice sings. The corridor is -lined to either side with men and their exposed erections spasm as if in response, their come exploding as Lauri passes, raining down over her, bathing her hair and flesh with warm translucent.
She slows, coming to a halt behind Felice's bike, pearly droplets spilling from her. Physical exhaustion lulls her. Her eyes come open wide, a rod thrusting up between her gizzum-coated buttocks to fill her rectum. She leans forward, her loins pressing against the back of Felice's bike as her bowels tremble with quaking heat. The shaft draws back out of her, the whip coming loose of her wrists. A gloved hand grasps her shoulder, turning her. A prick juts out long and hard from Felice's golden loins. It was she buggering Lauri and she who untied her. Felice raises the whip, snaking its dark length out in the air and it cracks like lightning, the light dimming. She snaps it again and electricity shimmers along its length. Wind sweeps through the building, thunder peeling. The veins stand out from Felice's enormous, engorged cock, heavy balls swinging beneath it as she moves forward, sinking it between Lauri's opening legs, between the wet curlings of red hair, Lauri's ass pressing back against the bike, Felice's long, booted legs angling forward, her ass rising and falling. "Lauri wants cock, Lauri wants cock," the speaker repeats over and over, Felice moving in and out with the rhythm of the words. Lauri's body throbs with ecstasy, her mind spinning. Her eyes close and she is suddenly falling. She opens her eyes as a conveyor belt drops her through a chute. She slides downward and out through a swinging panel onto the revolving luggage platform of the terminal. Her hands and feet are all bound together behind her, arching her body forward from knees to shoulders and she falls on her side, her trembling cunny jutting out over the edge of the platform which is circled by faces pressed side to side, the mouths opening against her cleave as it passes, tongues licking, her nook in constant contact with male and female mouths and tongues. The platform begins to move faster and faster, an erotic carousel, the pauses between mouths disappearing until one multitongued mouth feasts within her quaking snatch, a powerful climax swelling within her, all the events since the cycles appeared on the street joining their arousals. She gasps and the mouths are gone, the platform slowing to a halt. She opens panic-stricken eyes to see that the terminal is deserted, only Felice's cycle remaining, her hands and feet no longer bound.
Trembling with frustration, Lauri slowly sits up, dropping her feet to the floor. She takes a deep, quavering breath, trying to get hold of herself. Gritting her teeth, her eyes closed, she swallows hard, her dizziness receding. Exhaling, she wearily stands. In a daze, she wanders forward and pauses beside the big chopper, its motor idling. The gas tank and seat are now gone or hidden, a fiber glass body sculpted atop the bike. It is in the form of a woman stretched out upon her back, arms at sides. It is a sculpture of Felice. Blinking her eyes up from the fiber glass replica of Felice, Lauri glances around, seeing that the terminal is still empty. Hesitantly, she extends her hand, touching the face, the mouth and starts to touch the round nipple of one reflective breast. She glances around again, her fingers trembling and she slowly caresses the supine breast. Her hair spills over the flesh colored form and her lips brush the pearl of the nipple, her hand curving to the rounded swell of the breast which trembles with the vibration of the bikes engine, warm to her touch. Lauri's eyes close and her other hand strokes the other side of the torso, her breathing deepening. One leg lifts and she mounts the cycle, stretching out upon it, her loins in the saddle of the statue's hips. She suckles and licks the breast, rubbing her spread cunny against the figure's, the pulse beginning to quicken again within her underbelly. Her ass cheeks twist and bob, her clit rubbing against the golden fur, her hands kneading the breasts as her face lifts, her expression rapturous. She groans, orgasms soaring through her. She turns around, sliding her cunny back up toward the rounded breasts, her mouth lowering toward the gleaming curlings, her throbbing nook rubbing the mouth of the figure. She presses her tongue into the burnished gold pelt, the engine quickening and the vibrations with it. She is half-aware that it is no longer a statue of Felice beneath her, but Felice herself. She shivers, licking and sucking into the girls ripe cunt, her slit rubbing over Felice's chin and mouth. The engine of the bike roars, blasting echoes through the silent emptiness of the terminal. Lauri's heart beats faster and faster, her ears ringing, her lungs heaving, every nerve ending of her body tingling, her depths contracting and expanding, her apex pulsing into a shrieking blur. She moans, her body writhing, her mind reeling in the maelstrom of joy, the aborted climax reborn, its power multiplied. Her cunny explodes and implodes and she clutches Felice, screaming up into her depths, release blazing through her, white light flashing behind her closed eyelids. Then the contractions are gone, left behind in the soaring expansion of ecstasy, her mind and body one, bliss flowing through her. Dimly, she is aware that the other bikers, the terminal crowd and the luncheon figures from the display window are around them, applauding and she parts her eyelashes to see that they all now have faces, faces that smile for her as she lies with Felice, her flavor rich in her mouth.
Lauri sat up with a short, low cry, her eyes opening wide as she awoke from her dream. Trembling, she crossed her arms, grasping herself, shaking as she recalled what she had dreamt and that she had come. Her eyes squinting with anxiety, Lauri was shaken and confused and deeply troubled.
Her movements and cry having awakened him, Rick lay silently beside her, looking up from behind her, also deeply troubled, but also determined to somehow alleviate her emotional turmoil.